Alpha Billionaire Series
Billionaire and the Barista Chapter 14

NATHAN

"Good news, boss man," Gavin announced as he entered my office.

"Tell me."

"One of the real estate agents has the property owner next door to the Lake Moore project interested in an offer."

I processed what he said. That was Gabriella's property. She hadn't said anything about selling. Then again, she hadn't said much of anything beyond 'schedule an appointment.' Appointment? No, I wanted a date. Appointments were for doctors and tax accountants. If she was selling, this would change things.

"What about the other property?" I asked. "The strip mall?"

"I think this one is the strip mall." He looked down at his tablet. "Yeah, this is the strip mall, four retail locations plus parking."

My shoulders relaxed. I still had time to get Gabriella to go out with me before she sold off and moved away.

"Have you heard anything regarding the other lot?"

Gavin shook his head. "I still have agents willing to see if they can work a deal. With the sale of the properties on either side, we should be able to apply pressure and squeeze that owner to sell. We should celebrate," Gavin suggested.

He just wanted an excuse to go have drinks. He didn't need an excuse to drink, but it seemed more reasonable when there was one. I didn't drink, but I could use the relaxed atmosphere that could only be found in a bar, and as flimsy as an excuse as this was, it was enough to get me considering heading out.

I stood and rolled down the sleeves of my dress shirt. My clothes had arrived from Amsterdam, and I had managed to get a good portion of them unpacked. I had taken a lease in an executive apartment complex downtown. I had beautiful views of the city, and a new bed, but not much else.

My personal assistant in Europe was still packing up the belongings that I wanted shipped over and selling off the rest.

I needed furniture, I needed a cooking and cleaning service. I still needed a personal assistant to handle my dry cleaning, and it wasn't going to be my mother.

"You have a room here," she pointed when I announced I had located a place to live.

"Mother, I can't live here," I told her.

"You lived here without any problems before you moved away to work for your uncle. You can live here now," she insisted.

She and my father had kicked me out and shipped me off. I used the argument she used against me back then against her now.

"I had to leave to become the man you knew I could be. This man doesn't live at home. I love you and I will come to visit, but as soon as I get some furniture delivered, I will be moving."

Maybe if I had been more decisive, I wouldn't have spent the past six years living in Europe. I wouldn't be fighting an uphill battle to get Gabriella to go out with me. Leaving her was the biggest regret in my life, shadowed only by the stupidity that cost Fredrick his life.

Moving out of my parents' house once and for all would never be a regret.

"Let's go," I said as I grabbed my suit coat. I needed a change of scenery, a mocktail would suit me at the moment.

"Seriously?" Gavin scrambled out of my office. "This is great, I know the perfect place. I'll be right back."

While he grabbed his jacket, I stopped in front of Cameron's desk.

"Taking Gavin out for a job well done. How are we on the personal assistant project?" I asked.

"I have three candidates coming in for first-round interviews with you on Thursday. I'm hoping to have a fourth. I have an initial phone interview with him tomorrow.

"Can he cook?"

"That wasn't one of your original requirements," she pointed out.

It still wasn't, but I was getting tired of delivery. I swear I could feel my veins complain about the amount of sodium in American food.

"I'll ask. Is cooking a deal-breaker?" she asked.

I shook my head. "More like added value, bonus points."

"Let's go!" Gavin clapped me on the shoulder.

I tossed him the keys to the Jag. "Your choice, you drive."

"Sweet. I have the perfect place in mind."

I didn't know what to expect from him, so I was pleasantly surprised when he pulled to a stop and a valet was immediately there to park the car. I appreciated prompt service. I also appreciated not having to circle the block looking for parking or having to walk a block plus from the nearest parking garage.

The club was subtle and refined, with strong continental vibes. Not what I had expected from Gavin. With all his American bro-dude attitude at work, I expected a sports bar, hot wings, and cheap beer.

The music was low, and the dress code was executive level. We slid up to the bar. I ordered a nonalcoholic greyhound.

"I thought we were celebrating?" Gavin said.

"I'm driving," I countered."

"I drove here," he complained.

"In my car. You are not getting behind the wheel of the Jag after a few drinks." I held out my hand for my keys.

Reluctantly he handed them back.

"Some of the most influential decisions in the city are made in this room," Gavin started.

"I believe it. Somehow, I don't think we'll replace the owner of that strip mall here."

He laughed. "No, definitely not."

The bartender slid over our drinks. I sipped the bitter drink.

Gavin scanned the other patrons. "I'll be back."

I watched him cross the room. He approached a huddle of businessmen, all younger, about Gavin's age. The noise level went up as they greeted him. Before I knew it they were headed back toward me. "Guy this is my cousin and now my boss," he introduced us.

I shook hands and listened as they bantered about inflated values in cryptocurrencies and nun fungible tokens.

"It's where the real money is," one of them said. "You can influence your own increase."

"Only if the value gets inflated. That's a lot of social proof to manipulate."

I listened but didn't pay attention. This felt too much like any other discussion in any bar with self-important young executives. I didn't have the sense or feel of being back in the states, and the attempt at European flair was a complete failure. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't happening.

"We're headed out for steaks, care to join?"

Gavin looked at me like he had been asked to join the popular clique in high school. I was too old for this social climbing.

"Not for me," I said. "But Gavin here would love to join you. Who can give him a ride?"

We worked out the details, and I left knowing that Gavin would be fed before someone stuffed him into the back of a car and sent him home. I needed to get out of there. What I had been looking for, a change of atmosphere wasn't found at that exclusive bar. I didn't know where I would replace it. Or if I would. It felt like I had been looking for that magic change in my life for a while.

I tossed my keys to the valet. A couple of low motorcycles sped past.

They had all the tell-tale signs of racing. Maybe they were showing off for each other, maybe it was a race night. Before I left, back when I raced, race nights typically happened on Saturdays. But pick-up races happened all the time. Hell, if someone pulled up to a light on a racing bike, odds were good I would challenge them to see who was faster.

I handed over a healthy tip as the valet held the driver's door open for me. The Jag was already purring. It was built for performance and speed. But I preferred its smooth, classic good looks. My days of racing were over.

I was surrounded and then passed by motorcycles that were built for speed. The biker next to my side of the car would speed up and then feign back. I knew exactly what he was doing. I used to do it all the time. It was a challenge. I was in a sleek sports car. Could I take them on their specialty-built and modified bikes?

I shook my head and waved the guy off. The bikes roared as they accelerated away. I considered pacing them. This old car could handle it. I felt the surge of adrenaline begin to build. Deliberately I removed my foot from the gas and let the car fall behind, far behind. Racing was behind me. It was stupid and dangerous, and I would not encourage it. I would not participate. And yet, I found myself following them from a distance. The streets were familiar, the direction one I had memorized and never once forgotten in all of my years abroad.

I drove past the Lake Moore construction site, and slowed at the parking lot for Love Buns, but didn't pull in. Parking had been taken over by bikes. I pulled into the empty lot across the street. Gabriella had said she didn't know what I was talking about when I confronted her about still being in the scene. A low, bitter chuckle escaped my lips. Sure, I didn't know what I was talking about at all.

The lights were on, and the café was full on a night she closed up by seven. So, who were these people if they weren't racers? My breath stopped in my chest as I saw Gabriella. Her hair was loose, and she was smiling. She used to smile like that for me. She was going to go out with me again, and I was not going to make an appointment.